Brayden hoped that Rory wasn’t right on that particular feeling. That was one they could all do without.
“If you insist.” Quade pouted.
“I do, asshole.”
The three of them got up and headed down the hall.
“Make sure you check the security system after we leave, Stud,” Quade called.
“Done,” was Bray’s quick reply. And he did just that. Rihanna noticed the black Jeep head out through the gates as she collected items to start preparing the spaghetti bolognaise Bray had decided they were having for dinner. A few seconds later, Brayden returned and pulled her into his arms. He gave her a tight hug and rested his chin on her head. It was so nice to have someone to cuddle when things were shitty.
“Alone at last,” he declared.
Rihanna giggled at his comments. “I bet it feels like you’ve been invaded. First me, then the guys and now Jazz.”
“Something like that. I’d be happy for the last three to disappear sometime soon.” He moved slightly back from Rihanna and lifted her chin to meet his lips. He gave her a light kiss that was full of feeling. “You I want to keep a lot longer, maybe even forever.”
Rihanna’s heart thundered in her chest. Brayden had declared at least twice in the last twenty-four hours how serious he was. Was she ready for this? Was she ready to be in a relationship with him? More to the point, did she want to be without him? It was a very bleak thought, but they had other things to discuss.
She gently pushed herself away from his hold and picked up a knife and started cutting up onions for the spaghetti sauce. “What are we going to do if I’m pregnant, Brayden?” she said quietly, keeping her head down, watching the blade slice through the onion.
“What do you mean, Rihanna?”
“Do you want to keep the baby?” she asked in almost a whisper.
“Yes.” His answer was strong and clear. She felt immediate relief wash over her. Terminating a baby was not something she thought she’d be able to handle.
“So you’re okay being a dad?”
“Yep, I am. I always wanted to be a dad, just never thought it would happen to me,” he answered, drifting off as he prepared to fry up the onions and garlic she’d chopped.
“Why’s that?” she asked curiously, preparing the tomatoes for the sauce. This conversation seemed easier to have if they both had some other task to occupy their hands and didn’t require them to look directly at each other.
“Well, my life has been about the Centre, and the band to a lesser extent, since I was eighteen. I’m thirty-four years old now and I’ve kind of just stayed on this same path until now.” He paused. “That is, until you came along. I guess you’re making me re-evaluate a lot of what I want out of life.”
“Is that a good thing, this re-evaluation?”
“I think so. You make me feel whole, for the first time ever, I think.” His voice was confident, true.
“That’s good,” she said almost absently, not quite knowing what to say.
“What about you, Rihanna? How do you feel about a baby?”
She took a deep breath to calm the nerves that had overtaken her stomach. “Umm, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t freaked out by the idea.” She realised how bad that must have sounded when she heard Brayden suck in a sharp breath as if he’d been struck.
“That’s not how I meant it. I’ve always wanted to have kids someday. I guess I just never thought it would happen by accident. You’ve probably guessed by now I tend to have my whole life well planned and organised.” She could see him nodding his head, bent over the stove. “Although I have to say that you’re the only person I’ve ever met that I can imagine having a child with.”
“What scares you the most, Minky?” he said quietly.
“Being so in love with someone that when they’re gone you wish you were too.” Her voice trailed off, choppy with emotion and threatening tears.
Her eyes clouded with unshed tears. She felt his arms come around her and she immediately buried her face into his chest, letting the tears fall.
“Tell me about it,” he whispered into her ear.
She wept softly against his chest for a few more seconds before taking a deep breath to chase the worst of the tears away.
“My mum died from cancer when I was sixteen. Since then, I’ve watched my dad become more and more of a shell to the point where I often expect he’ll just will himself to die, just to be with her again.” She took a shuddering breath. “I’m not sure I can let myself love someone that much.”
He squeezed her tightly, finally understanding why she often held back. Why she had perfected the ice façade. Bray rubbed his hand slowly through her silken hair. He didn’t say anything. What could he say to that?
“All I can promise, Brayden, is that I’ll try.”
“That’s all I can ask, baby. And know this: I’ll always meet you at least halfway. And for the first time in my life, I have someone I really want to love and make a future with.”
She nodded her understanding. “I do, too, Bray. I just wish I wasn’t so scared.”
He thought of all she didn’t know about him and the gut-gnawing fear returned. He was asking all this of her and yet he was hiding half of his true self. It was killing him, one knife twist to his gut at a time.
“I need you to promise me something else, Rih.” He cupped her face, raising her eyes to look into his. “I need you to promise me that you’ll always talk to me about whatever is concerning you. Jazz is your best friend and I get that and I respect it. But this is our relationship and the only two people that can make it work are you and I.”
“Okay, I promise you that.” She smiled up at him.
The knife in his gut twisted a full rotation back the other way.
***
“How do you sit here and watch him do that, and not want to jump him?” Jazz asked her.
“Who says I don’t want to jump him?” Rihanna giggled.
The girls were curled up on the outdoor lounges, sipping green tea. Brayden was sitting at the outdoor table, a notebook on the table, a pencil behind his ear and his beautiful acoustic guitar on his knee.
Rory had taken a call from Tom Anderson shortly after dinner. A few minutes later, he and Quade had headed off in the black Jeep. Apparently the boss wanted something checked out. Brayden was delegated to “babysit the girls.” Quade had made sure he rubbed that in hard before he’d left with Rory. Brayden had said it was no hardship and another round of lighthearted ribbing had ensued between the guys.
The call out had ratcheted up everyone’s tensions. Rory was right when he’d made the comment about things escalating after the shooting today. They all needed to be even more on guard.
The likely targets knew they’d been made and would be doing what they could to close ranks, escalate, and execute their intended operation. At this stage, Rihanna’s guess of the yearling sales and summer racing carnival was the best bet they had.
The girls chose to sit and sip tea and chat to pass the time before bed. He wouldn’t be going to bed before he heard from Rory and Quade, and he had a feeling the girls were of the same opinion but hadn’t said anything. Everyone was feeling the tension and looking for something to do to help relax but still remain alert. Brayden chose to pick up his guitar and try to focus his emotions on creating some new music for Steel.
Brayden was strumming a few cords, subtly adding and changing the riff. Jazz was clearly in her element, having the opportunity to listen to Bray compose some of her favourite band’s music.
“Has he played for you before?” she asked Rih.
“Only a couple of times.”
“What’s he play?” she badgered Rih.
Rihanna felt her face flush bright red. She was glad for the protection of the shadows to hide the blush. “Oh, this and that,” she said absently, trying to throw Jazz off.
“Bullshit, you are so lying to me,” she hissed at Rihanna playfully.
“Can I not have anyt
hing private in my life?”
“Nope, not when you’re dating him and I’m your best friend.”
“You’re not going to stop until I answer, are you?”
“Now you’re getting the picture,” Jazz encouraged with a giggle that did little to mask the determination underneath.
Rihanna shook her head, disgusted with herself for even thinking about answering. “He played ‘Take Me Home Tonight’ the first time he played. And ‘The World Through Her Eyes’ the second time. There, happy now?”
Jazz looked over at Rihanna quizzically. “How come he only played one song each time?” Rihanna twitched in her chair and ducked her head. “Don’t bother answering—I already know, you lucky thing. I’m so jealous.”
Rihanna was quiet for a second, clearly tossing something around in her head. She eventually turned to Jazz, who was completely stoic. “You know Quade is absolutely right, you are a honey nose,” she declared.
Both of the girls burst out laughing and bashed each other with the throw cushions from the lounge. Who said only the guys could act like kids?
“Are you two quite done with your antics?” Brayden called from over yonder.
He didn’t get a reply. Likely they hadn’t even heard him through their fits of giggles and cushion bashing. They were just letting off steam. The tension was getting to them all.
He’d been watching their conversation out of the corner of his eye. Hearing their words, even though softly spoken, had not been a problem at all. His enhanced hearing ensured he could hear every word, crystal clear. It never ceased to amaze him what women talked about. It seemed he was the main topic of conversation between Jazz and Rihanna. He didn’t really mind but he had to agree with Quade and now Rihanna: Jazz really was the biggest busybody he’d come across. Quade was spot on with his “honey nose” title.
He could see the appeal of Jazz. She was gregarious, attractive, and great company. She also had a hell of a temper and was a fiercely loyal friend. The latter a quality he admired and valued highly. Quade and Jazz just seemed to rub each other the wrong way on a regular basis. It was entertaining to watch.
Before, at dinner, they’d fought over the last piece of garlic bread. What sort of woman fought over a piece of bread? The Jazz type. The type that enjoyed pushing all Quade’s buttons just to get a rise out of him. One of these days, the girl would pull that kitty’s tail too hard.
Brayden finally succumbed to the realisation that he wasn’t really making any progress with the new song that had been running around in his head over the last week or so. He placed the guitar on the table and stood, walking to the veranda railing, peering out into the darkness.
Truth was he was too keyed up. It was a common problem, with all the team. They looked outwardly calm because they’d all practiced and trained to appear so. However, the reality was much different. Their highly tuned animal senses were actually sparking all over the place. They were constant currents of high-voltage electricity waiting to be put to use.
He didn’t envy Rory and Quade for having an assignment tonight. Truth was he preferred to be wherever Rihanna was. But it would have been something to at least give him a constructive activity to focus his bustling energies on. Sitting and waiting was something that none of them did well. They all had too many animal genes running through their veins to be ever idle for long.
If he’d been here alone with Rihanna, he would have tempted her into a round or two of sweaty, lose your mind sex, but that’s something he wouldn’t do flagrantly with just Jazz around. He respected both girls too much.
He wandered closer to the girls and propped his hip against the railing. He didn’t say a word, just looked at them.
Rihanna had immediately noticed him coming closer and gave him that shy but saucy smile he loved so much. The one where her chin ducked and angled.
“Hey, you decided to give it away?” She motioned with her head to the guitar he’d left on the table.
He shrugged his shoulders. “For now. I’m a bit too keyed up to really be able to do anything constructive with writing at the moment.”
“When do you think the guys will be back?” Jazz asked.
“Hard to say. Depends on what they find.” It was a nothing answer but none of them really wanted to rip the top off that can of worms.
“It’s only nine o’clock. Why don’t we watch a movie?” Rihanna suggested.
“Sounds like a plan.” Brayden extended his hand to help her out of the lounge chair.
“Only if we can watch a chick flick,” Jazz teased, getting up.
Brayden made gagging noises but finally agreed; it was easier to keep the girls happy than argue with them.
***
The movie was just getting to the good part when the boys rolled in. Rihanna felt Brayden tense beneath her. She’d been comfortably watching the movie curled up in Brayden’s arms on the lounge, Jazz sprawled out on the other one. Rihanna knew he’d want to go and meet the guys outside in the garage before they came through to the main house. She sat up to allow him to go. As was his custom, he brushed a soft kiss across her forehead as he left.
Rihanna noticed that Jazz had sat more upright as well. They were both on alert. Both of them watched the movie, but not really. They continued this charade for a few more minutes before Rihanna could stand it no longer. She got up and went to put the kettle on in the kitchen. She needed to be moving, doing something.
A couple of minutes later, they both heard the guys coming down the hall. Rihanna was standing behind the kitchen bench, coffee cups at the ready.
Brayden came into view first and had immediately assessed what she’d been up to. “Good plan, sweetheart. The guys could certainly use a coffee.” He walked to another cupboard and grabbed a bottle of single malt scotch whiskey and tumblers before plonking himself down on a stool at the bench.
Rory and Quade joined him. Jazz leant on the end. An eerie silence settled on the group. Jazz could stand the silence no longer. “Well, what happened?”
Rory looked up at her, a dark look on his face. “Wasn’t good.” He scrubbed his hand over his face before continuing. “We got there at the tail end of some bad shit going down. The Chinese dudes were just leaving the address the boss had sent us to check out. We got tangled up in a bit of a brawl. Actually, it was more like a knife fight.”
Rory turned towards Rihanna, accepting the coffee she’d made him. That’s when she noticed his face was swollen down the right side. She gasped, looking at the bruise appearing. “That’s a nasty bruise you got going,” she pointed out, moving to the freezer to get a cold pack out.
“Had worse. Quade’s worse—he’s got a nasty knife slice in his side.”
The girls both turned to Quade, looking horrified that he was sitting here so calmly.
“It’s okay, nothing a few butterfly clips won’t fix. I’ll clean it up later.”
Jazz immediately moved to him and started pulling his shirt up. He tried to resist her busy hands.
“Oh, for God’s sake, I’m a fucking doctor. Let me have a look,” she said, annoyed he was denying her access to his wound.
“Yeah, a shrink—not a real doctor,” he replied curtly.
She shook her head at his stupidity and stubbornness. “I had to become a REAL doctor before I could become a shrink, moron. I’ve worked more shifts than I care to remember at the emergency ward at the Gold Coast Hospital.”
He’d reluctantly relinquished his hold on the shirt. Jazz had it off over his head and was looking intently at the wound. About the length of a hand span, it ran across his right side just below his bottom rib.
“It’s good for about twenty sutures. You’ve got two choices: either I do them here or you take a trip to the emergency room.” Jazz was in full business mode.
Rihanna watched Quade consider the options for about two seconds before he nodded to Jazz, indicating she should do it.
“Can you get my bag out of my car, Rih? You know the one I’m talking abou
t?”
“Sure, I’ll go get it. Where are your keys?”
“On the dresser in my room.”
Rihanna moved from the room, with Brayden hot on her heels. He said nothing as he followed her out to the car. She quickly located the bag in the back and went to head back in. He put his hand on her arm to stop her.
“What?” she asked, looking at Bray, suddenly alarmed.
“Don’t ask any more questions about what happened until after she gets him stitched up.”
“Why?” Now she was totally curious.
“There’s more to the story and I think it’s going to upset both of you.”
“You can’t just say that and expect me to not freak out, Brayden,” she demanded, hissing at him to keep her voice down.
“Look, it’s best this way. Please trust me.”
She shook her head in annoyance at his attitude and headed in with the bag.
Jazz had cleared off the bench, preparing to get to work on Quade. Rihanna passed her the bag and Jazz quickly pulled out the things she’d need and got down to work, while the rest of them drank their coffee and watched on.
“Done,” Jazz announced, reaching for an adhesive bandage to cover the wound.
Rihanna peered around her friend to take a closer look at the neat sutures. “Nice work for a shrink,” she ribbed Jazz.
“Oh, don’t you start as well.” Jazz glared at her.
Rihanna grinned. “Looks like you’ll live to fight another day, Quade.”
He left his shirt off. The black T had soaked up the blood, making it near impossible to tell that he was injured when they first came in.
Jazz was zipping up her bag when Brayden passed around the scotch he’d been pouring. “Um, there’s a bit more to tonight’s activities. Rory?” He nodded to Rory to pick up the story again.
“We managed to detain a couple of the Chinese guys. D, Angelo, and Ali picked them up for us.” Rory was fidgeting in his chair, nothing like his normal laid-back persona. That in itself sent chills up Rihanna’s spine.
“We went into the house and we discovered two men on the floor unconscious with multiple knife wounds. One was Matthews. He was barely alive when the ambulance arrived. The other we believe was Andrew Black. He died in transit to the hospital.”
Finding Trust (Centre Games) Page 27
